


It's In His Touch

by Halzbarry



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dean is Bad at Feelings, DeanCas FlipFest, DeanCas Flipfest 2018, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, First Time, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phone Sex, Sex Magic, reverse sex pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halzbarry/pseuds/Halzbarry
Summary: After closing the portal to the other world and shutting the gates to both heaven and hell, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Cas settle into an almost domestic lifestyle in the bunker. That domestic tranquility is interrupted when Dean and Cas find themselves cursed by a witch during a case. The curse: Dean and Cas magically can’t touch each other, which shouldn’t be a big deal… until Dean realizes that he just can’t seem to keep their hands off Cas. As the curse strengthens, Dean is forced to confront some feelings he’s long considered better off buried deep down within.





	It's In His Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the 2018 Deancas Flipfest challenge! Thanks so much to the Profoundnet team for putting on this great challenge and thanks so much to Amie for taking the time to beta this fic for me! This couldn't have been done without you!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this fic!

“God, I can’t stand witches. Always with the weird magic and the gross bodily fluids and trying to kill people for no damn good reason—”

“Dean,” Cas interrupts as he passes by Dean, throwing one of  _ those  _ looks at him—that look that tells him he’s talking too much and not focusing on the task at hand.

“Just sayin’. I’d take a vamp or a wendigo or, hell, even another demon, over a witch any day.”

“Dean, focus,” Cas reminds him. Dean doesn’t need to turn around to see the massive eye roll Cas is probably giving him. Even after Cas fell for good, using up his grace to seal the rift to the other world and to revive the angels and restore heaven, nothing has really changed about him, especially his penchant for dramatic eye rolling.

What has changed is everything else. Cas hasn’t seemed bothered by no longer being able to do certain things as an angel. Some things, he’s changed entirely. The trench coat and suit have been swiftly replaced with jeans and flannel or ratty tees from Dean’s closet. Castiel’s still every bit as intense and no-nonsense though.

He’s been getting that look a lot ever since Sam had shown him their latest case, a town plagued by a bunch of random deaths. Each death was more random than the last, from someone’s hair dryer frying their heads (again), to a guy randomly getting impaled by a stick tossed out by a lawnmower. There was virtually no connection in the suburban Iowa town that they had to call in Garth to help. Dean was hesitant to let Garth back in, especially being a werewolf with a family now, but hesitation flew out the window when, surprisingly, Garth was the one who found the missing link between each victim.

It doesn't change the fact that Garth is still every bit as goofy as he was as a human and Dean still gets a high level of second-hand embarrassment from him, especially watching him interrogate people.

Garth, by sheer luck, had been the one to learn that each victim had a psychic reading done at a random house on the edge of town and that hex bags were given as good luck charms to each person.

That’s how he and Cas found themselves mucking around a witch’s backyard, looking for wherever she kept her supply of hex bags while Sam and Garth were inside taking care of the witch.

“I am focused, Cas. I’m too focused. Hell, it should be Garth and Sam out here looking for these damn hex bags. I mean, doesn’t Garth have, like, that weird werewolf nose now?”

Cas sighs and once again Dean envisions the dramatic eye roll and look of exasperation as Cas pushes past him. They’ve been walking the entire span of the witch’s backyard and now they’re wandering the woods behind the witch’s house.

There’s no shortage of weird plants growing out here in the witch’s backyard and he wonders how many of them are probably deadly.

“Dean, look.”

Dean stops searching around the ground and looks up to see what looks like a greenhouse just down the hill from them.

“The hell is a greenhouse doing out here?”

Cas doesn’t answer or hesitate and makes his way towards it, but Dean immediately throws a hand out to stop him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Looking for the hex bags,” Cas answers as he turns to Dean.

“Yeah, and charging right into some witch’s creepy greenhouse. Don’t you think it’s suspicious that there’s a greenhouse out here in the middle of the forest?”

Cas huffs again. “Of course, it’s suspicious, Dean. But we don’t have time. We have to burn the hex bags. If we don’t burn them now, someone else could die.  _ We  _ could die.”

Cas shrugs him off and storms ahead towards the greenhouse and Dean pulls his gun from his belt and rolls his eyes. “Sonuvabitch.”

Dean follows behind and Cas and they find themselves inside the greenhouse full of weird looking and smelling plants. Each one seems foreign, no doubt special herbs needed for the witch’s potions, spells and various other deadly means. The place has seen better days though, it looks rarely cleaned, dust, dirt, and dead leaves all littering the floor.

“Dean,” Cas alerts causing Dean to turn to see Cas crouched over in what seems to be a completely normal-looking spot.  

“I don’t see anything, Cas.”

“Underneath the tiles. I think there’s something under them.”

Dean holsters his gun and goes to help Cas and between the two of them they’re able to pull up the tiles, and, sure enough, Cas is right. There’s a giant pit just about arm’s length deep where a dirty-looking satchel sits. Around them are weird vines with tiny, yellow flowers growing on them. It almost looks like ropes, but Dean has no doubt that those are the hex bags.

“Alright, let’s hurry up and burn’em and get back to Sam and Garth.” Dean pulls out a box of matches and strikes one before dropping it down on the satchel. The satchel and vines immediately catch fire, bursting into a giant ball of flame. Dean moves to Cas, patting him on the shoulder, but letting his hand slowly fall down to his lower back and letting it linger there. 

Neither he nor Cas are prepared for the plume of smoke that abruptly shoots forth from the burning satchel. Dean immediately shields his eyes as sounds of fizzing and popping fills the air. A sweet, earthy odor like what he’d expect from herbs that fills the air, adding to the thick fog. Smoke continues billowing violently, dense and suffocating, but just as quickly as the smell and smoke came, it’s gone. When he looks back down, the remnants of burned hex bags are all that remains.

“The hell kind of hex bags are those?”

“We don’t have time to figure that out,” Cas warns. “We need to go back for Sam and Garth.”

That’s the moment Dean’s phone rings and he pulls it out to see Sam calling which Dean shows Cas before answering it.

“Sammy, you gank the witch?”

“Yeah. Took a minute, but—uh—Garth’s being a werewolf really saved the day. Turns out witches aren’t always equipped to face a werewolf. You and Cas find the hex bags?” Sam asks.

“Found and kaput. Think it’s safe to say we’re done here. Meet you and Garth back the car.”

Dean hangs up the phone and, once again, finds his hand settling on Cas’ shoulder. The moment his hand lands he feels a dull shock in right in the palm of his hand, which he pulls it away just as quick.

“Sonuvabitch!” Dean yelps, staring at the offending hand.

“Dean!” Cas says, worried. Dean looks up from his palm at Cas, who is staring at him, pinning with those blue eyes full of worry. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just, uh, some bad static electricity or something. I’m good.”

Cas doesn’t seem to pressure him too much more into answering so they continue to walk back to the car while Dean occasionally looks down at his hand, still finding no sign of injury where he touched Cas. Eventually, he lets it go and just drinks in the calm silence of being around Cas.

All of this is brand new. He’s not used to having Cas around on a lot of these hunt and run situations. He’s used to Cas only being around when something big goes down, and, thankfully even the big things have died down. Lucifer is back in the cage, the portal to the other world is locked tight, and heaven is still up and running with the last gate closed off.

“You seem distracted.” Cas is thinking, Dean can tell. His eyes are glued to him like he’s scanning him. Sometimes Dean wonders if Cas can see through him with angel vision or something. “Are you sure you’re alright? Maybe it’s the hex bags. A hex bag shouldn’t have burned like that. We should make sure nothing is wrong,” Cas offers as he gets close to Dean. Dean watches, almost paralyzed for a moment, as Cas reaches out for him, but he bats his hand away. There’s another dull jolt again, faster this time and not long enough for Dean to register any pain, just the uncomfortable sensation.

“M’fine, Cas.” He pushes ahead of Cas and heads back towards the front of the house where Sam and Garth are waiting for them. “C’mon. Got a hell of a drive ahead. Not to mention we gotta make a beer stop on the way back too.”

He doesn’t wait for Castiel to follow because he knows Castiel will follow him. Sometimes the thought scares him a bit, especially with this human, more vulnerable Cas. But he tamps down on the thoughts of Cas, and him and Cas for another time.

Hopefully never, if he can help it.

___________________________________________

They part ways with Garth back in Iowa before making the long trek home. Having looked a little beat up from his encounter with the witch, Dean’s not the least bit surprised that Sam sleeps for most of the trip. Cas, on the other hand, he’s shocked to find asleep too. It’s nice to see that they’re actually sleeping since it finally seems like there’s not some looming evil aiming to destroy the world. They both have had some restless nights, especially with Jack choosing to stay behind with Mary in the other world.

Dean’s had his own struggles accepting their decision to stay, but he’s learning to deal with it day by day. Having Sam and Cas around helps.

All throughout the drive Dean can’t help but glance up at Cas in the rearview mirror every once in a while as he sleeps. He’s still wrapping his mind around the fact that Castiel, former angel of the lord and heavenly warrior, looks so soft as he sleeps. But then he clams up and focuses on the road or the song playing quietly the radio, cutting off his thoughts before they can betray him and waltz into territory he’d rather not venture into yet.

It’s three in the morning when he finds a twenty-four-hour gas station about an hour outside the bunker to pop in and grab a case of beer to take back, and it’s a little past four when he wakes Sam and Cas up to get out of the Impala and inside to sleep.

Sam wanders in groggily before disappearing to check on Jack while Dean finds himself leading Cas into the bunker, hand resting right under the nape of Cas neck as they saunter in behind Sam. Sam still looks half-asleep and mutters a lazy good night before he disappears into his room. Cas, on the other hand, lingers. Even when Dean’s putting the beer away in the kitchen, Cas is there.

“You should get some more sleep. I can handle putting a case of beer away by myself,” Dean jokes as Cas sits at the island watching.

“I know.” His answer isn’t curt, but it leaves little for Dean to reply to.

When Dean looks up at him he fixes Cas with a ‘what do you want’ look as he stands up and shuts the refrigerator.

“So, what’s the deal? You want some coffee or something? Can’t imagine you sitting here watching me put beer away is fun.”

Cas shakes his head. “No, thank you, Dean.” Dean can see it now, the question that lingers in Cas’ eyes. He’s not sure what it’ll be, but he’s also not sure if he wants to answer it at four in the morning. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Dean shrugs. “Shoot.”

“Dean, I wanted to ask you…” Cas stops, a hard-thinking expression marring his face. “Actually, I think it’s best I ask you another time. I’m… not feeling quite well.”

“You sure, Cas?”

Cas offers a tiny smile as he stands from the table. “I’m positive, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t miss the way Cas’ hand goes straight to his stomach, cradling it like he’s in some sort of pain. Dean’s alerted to a dull throb in his own stomach. It’s easily ignorable, but noticeable. He and Cas did share that burger plate at the diner. He mentally shrugs it off as indigestion or something. Worst case scenario, food poisoning.

Dean shrugs and watches as Cas starts for the doorway, and somehow Dean goes to meet him. Maybe it’s his sleep-delirium as he feels the heavy pull of his eyelids begging for his four hours, that has him mindlessly making his way towards Cas, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

“Alright, well, uh, g’night, Cas.”  Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, but that jolt is back again and Dean snaps his hand away once more.

“Dean?” Cas says worried.

Dean looks at him but just smiles and pretends like everything is fine and nothing happened.

“I’m good, Cas. I’ll, uh, see you in a couple of hours.”

Dean’s out of the door before Cas can protest, and he waits until he’s inside his room before looking at his hand. There’s still no marks or signs of the pain in his hand. Weirder is that this time, the shock really did hurt. It’s almost like a bee sting, sharp and painful, but the pain dulls as soon as it comes.

There’s no point in dwelling, so Dean slips out of his clothes, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers before crawling to turn off his light and throw himself into bed.

He figures that tomorrow the pain will be long gone. Instead, he can maybe focus more on why it is that he subconsciously has such a strong urge to touch Cas so goddamn much.

___________________________________________

The sun comes too quickly as Dean rubs the crust out of his eyes. His immediate first thought is  _ coffee _ . He pulls himself out of bed and throws on his robe before stepping into his slippers, meandering out of his room and into the kitchen.

He doesn’t hear any noise and figures Sam and Cas are still asleep. Now that Cas is fully human again, Dean’s found himself acquainted with Cas’ utter hatred of mornings. Without a solid three cups of coffee, Cas is snippier now than he was as an angel. It’s the reason why Dean’s found himself at the local shopping center and walking out with a brand-new Keurig and a month’s supply of the specific coffee brand that Cas likes the most now that he can taste things. He got lucky that Sam kept quiet about the whole thing and only gave him that smarmy look he always gets when he thinks he’s got Dean figured out.

Dean puts on his first pot on the old coffee machine and goes ahead and starts Cas’ up too in the new Keurig.

He’s still too groggy to think about why he’s so… domestic when it comes to Cas, and how he got that way. Desperate to discard thoughts of Cas, Dean opens the fridge to search for anything for breakfast, and pulls out some bacon and eggs.

Footsteps echo in the kitchen right as the coffee pots finish, and he looks over his shoulder to see Cas wandering in looking half-lost, sleepy-eyed and yawning. He’s wearing nothing but one of Dean’s old Zeppelin t-shirts and boxers that are probably a size too small for him. Dean has to force himself to turn away, ignoring his brain’s desperation to see what’s underneath them.

“Morning sunshine,” Dean greets.

Cas grunts something of a good morning in return before scratching at the part of his midsection that his shirt has hiked up from as he stretches. Dean’s mouth goes even drier seeing Cas so… naked.

This new human Cas can’t stand the feel of clothes, and it’s causing Dean to have one too many naughty and poorly timed daydreams. Cas dismisses his dissatisfaction with clothing as nothing, and doesn’t stop waltzing around in his boxers and old t-shirts,  _ Dean’s old t-shirts _ . Sam had offered to give some of his to Cas, but Dean argued that Sam’s were too long. More specifically, ‘ _ they belong on giants. Not Cas.’ _

Sam just gave him that snide  _ uh-huh _  look and said nothing else.

There’s nothing wrong with giving away your shirts, right? After all, it’s just Cas.

“Hungry?”

Cas shrugs and scratches his head, disheveling his hair worse than it already was, a massive array of dark, brown locks mussed and tousled on top of his head

He takes Cas’ shrug as a yes and grabs two mugs - one for his own cup of coffee and one for Cas’. He sets his down and walks to Cas to hand him his own mug and Cas takes it from him, his hands wrapping over Dean’s just for a moment.

The pain is immediate and a hundred times worse now.

That shock is like one giant needle being shoved into his skin where Cas’ hands had touched his, and then, his stomach. Dean collapses to his knees, the mug of coffee falling and spilling all over the kitchen table and his and Cas’ hands. The burn of the spilled coffee makes the pain just that much worse.

He breathes in deeply. “Sonuvabitch,” he groans. “Cas, little help here?”

His request falls on deaf ears because when he looks up, Cas is hunched over in his seat, cradling his hand where he touched Dean while somehow trying to hold his stomach with his arm.

“Dean…” he groans. Dean tries to move towards him, but it’s like every move towards Cas makes the pain that much sharper. He wonders if this is what childbirth feels like.

“Cas, the hell just happened?”

Cas, even in all his apparent pain, manages to level one of his trademark ‘I can smite you’ glares at him. “How would I know?”

“Well, you’re an angel?”

“Was!” Cas grumbles quickly.

“Well… excuse me,” Dean quips, still managing to find the energy to roll his eyes.

This pain is lingering now and his stomach feels like it’s twisted in knots all of a sudden. There doesn’t seem to be an end to the pain in sight for either him or Cas, so he just sits and waits. That’s when Sam and Jack come sprinting in, a level of shock painting their expressions.

“Dean! Cas!” Sam yells, running to them. “What happened?”

“Don’t have a freaking clue,” Dean grumbles in response.

Sam manhandles Dean by his arms and pulls him away from the spilled coffee that’s formed a hot puddle beneath him while Jack tends to Cas. Suddenly, as he’s pulled away from Cas to the other side of the kitchen there seems to be some relief. His breaths come easier now and the feeling of needles trying to stab his hand and stomach to death has dulled to more of an inconvenient prick.

Dean’s immediate first thought, though, is Cas, who also seems to be better. He’s back on his feet with Jack’s help, but slow to move.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asks again.

“Didn’t have an answer the first time you asked, and I don’t have one now.” Sam rolls his eyes before offering Dean a hand to get back up which Dean takes. “Look, one second I’m giving Cas his mug of coffee, the next, I felt this shock in my hand, and then it felt like someone was living in my stomach and stabbing me to death.”

Dean takes a step forward and swats Sam’s hand away when Sam tries to help steady him. At least touching Sam doesn’t seem to have the same effect. Cas is braced against the table and Dean’s first and foremost thought is to check on him.

The subconscious part of his brain that seems to ignore all logical reason when it comes to Cas takes over, and before Dean can return to rational thought, he instinctively reaches out to touch Cas. “Cas, you alri—”

The pain is back again just as quickly as it left, but this time, Cas goes down with him.

“Dean! What… did you do?” Cas growls in between gritted teeth.

“Me? The hell… do you think… I did?” Dean growls back.

Sam acts immediately and pulls Dean away to the other side of the kitchen again, and just like before, the pain dilutes. Dean’s not sure who figures it out first, him or Sam, but when he looks up at Sam, Sam has that look as though a light bulb has gone off in his head.

“Dean, war room now. Jack and Cas you two stay here,” Sam commands. Sam drags Dean out of the kitchen and into the war room where Dean finally feels like he can truly breathe again.

“The hell is going on?” Dean asks, not hiding his frustration at his current predicament.

“It’s weird, but, Dean, I think you and Cas are literally killing each other every time you touch each other,” Sam says, looking around, the gears in his head obviously starting to turn.

“Yeah, I figured that out, genius. I mean what the hell caused it? Cas and I were fine not even twelve goddamn hours ago,” Dean barks.

“Maybe it’s a curse or something? I mean it makes sense. We just stormed a witch’s house to kill her. Maybe she cursed us or something.”

“Sam is correct.” Dean turns to see Cas walking in.

“Cas! I told you stay in the kitchen!” Sam warns.

Dean anxiously awaits the stabbing pain to return as Cas makes his way closer to him, but it doesn’t come this time, even as Cas remains only a couple of feet away.

“It seems this is a curse of some sort. Maybe a latent one. I experienced some slight discomfort whenever you touched me after we left the witch’s home, but not to this extent.”

“Sonuvabitch. So, somehow we got cursed by a witch who we just ganked, so now we’re at square one unless we potentially drive all the way back to Iowa to ransack her house for a possible cure.”

Dean watches Sam look between him and Cas, and feels a pit forming in his stomach.

“Maybe there’s something in the Black Grimoire,” Sam comments. “I’ll read through it and see if I can find something. In the meantime, you and Cas just need to not… touch each other.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jack chimes in, following behind Sam. Dean’s not surprised. The kids been Sam’s shadow since he used up almost all his grace to help them stop Lucifer and Michael and seal the rift.

Sam and Jack disappear into the library where he’s started keeping all the various spell books they’ve collected over the years, leaving Dean and Cas alone in the war room. When Dean looks over to Cas, the former angel is just staring right back at him. There’s a whole world dancing around in his eyes, but Dean swallows and shoots him a grin.

“We got this. We’ll just keep our hands off one another and then we should be alright.”

Cas nods, a little hesitant if the narrowing of his eyes and tense posture is anything to go by. “It seems doable.”

Dean doesn’t even notice that he’s moving and stretching out a hand until Cas shies away from him, eyes wide in shock.

“Dean!”

When Dean realizes what he was about to do he freezes and swallows down the lump in his throat. He lowers his hand and takes another step back.

Maybe this is going to be harder than he thought.

__________________________

It’s been exactly five hours since Dean figured out he’s been cursed or something, and he’s successfully stayed away from Cas a solid zero times since them.

The first time is after Cas disappears into the library to help Sam look for a cure.

Dean loses track of how long he’s been hiding out in his newly dubbed Dean-cave, managing to snag a good deal on a smaller, but functional, thirty-two-inch television in place of their broken, and cursed, fifty-inch one.

He figures he’ll be safe not running into Cas, so he begrudgingly gets up and ventures into the kitchen for a snack. By the time he settles on a bag of potato chips and a beer, Cas is suddenly there. Cas moves immediately to the coffee pot, and without thinking, Dean looks up at him as he grabs an ice cold beer out of the fridge, smirking.

“Coffee, huh? Guess I could use a hot mug myself. Seein’ as how I ain’t got shit else to do and we didn’t exactly get to enjoy our coffee this mornin’.”

“This research is taking longer than we expected.”

Dean grabs the potato chips out of one of the cupboards and chuckles.

“Yeah, well, if anyone can figure it out, it’s you two geniuses.”

It’s a miracle that Cas manages to put the mug down before Dean, forgetful of the curse, saddles up to Cas and wraps an arm around him without a second thought.

The pain is somehow even worse and faster this time, instantaneous and now feeling like a million  _ very hot _  needles are stabbing Dean’s arm where his skin touches Cas.

They’re both knocked onto the ground, groaning and clutching at their stomachs as the pain travels throughout their entire bodies. It takes Dean a few seconds to notice that his beer has smashed, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

Struggling to breathe, Dean manages to crawl away and put some more distance between them, but even then, the pain only mitigates a little. Not at all like it had this morning.  

It just that much more embarrassing when he hears Sam sigh and looks up to see him rolling his eyes before pulling them apart.

“Damnit, Dean! Can you really not keep your hands off him?” Sam barks.

“Shut the hell up, Sammy!” Dean barks back, having nothing to hit him back with because really what can he say?

__________________________

The second time, Dean can and does blame on Cas.

Cas is still learning, with a high level of irritability, to use the bathroom. It’s one of the many human things Dean knows he despises with a passion. With Cas’ griping about using the bathroom also comes his inability to break habits. Cas is set in his ways of using the same bathroom, which just happens to be the one closest to Dean’s room. When Cas first permanently became human, Dean tried to talk him out of walking all the way to  _ his _  bathroom, but Cas being newly human, who was Dean to try to force him to acclimate any faster?

Still, given their current predicament, it probably wasn’t the best idea that Cas continues choosing to use his bathroom of all the ones in the bunker, especially when Dean stretches his legs and leaves to escape the confinement of his room at that exact moment.

He hears the toilet flush and the door open only to see Cas emerge, eyes droopy with exhaustion and frustration. It’s a subtle anger, visible only by the slightly larger upturn in his usual indifferent frown. Even Cas’ body looks more tense than usual. It just feels off to Dean, and Dean realizes he might have gotten accustomed to the now human Cas faster than he thought.

“Geez, you’re lookin’ tense, Cas. Sammy boring the hell out of you?”

“I assure you, Sam is not the source of my… tension,” Cas grumbles. “I’m just frustrated, Dean. We haven’t made any headway in fixing this… whatever it is.”

Cas’ frustration hurts Dean more than it should. Dean hates for either him or Sam to be upset, but with Cas, lately, it’s been worse. He wants Cas to enjoy everything because he hates that Cas isn’t an angel anymore. He just wants Cas to be happy.

The yearning to ease the pain has Dean reaching for Cas, wanting so badly to rest his hand on his shoulder and take that tension and stiffness that belonged to Cas - either to take it on himself, or just make it go away.  

Once again, they’re both on the ground with a pain that Dean imagines would be similar to the agony of childbirth. It radiates through every inch of his body. Cas’ screams are deafening, and Dean so badly wants to go him, but he knows he has to do the opposite to help him.

Pushing through his own groaning, it’s a miracle that Dean is able to kick and flail himself far enough away that the pain recedes again, but it’s still lot farther he has to go before it vanishes entirely, and he’s realizing that it’s taking a lot more space between them to diminish the pain. By the time he’s got enough mental capacity to think of something other than the pain sitting in his stomach, he looks over to see that Cas is up and running from him.

He wants to call after him, but then he wonders what good would that do, and then thinks the better of it.

__________________________

Dean’s lounging in his room, his headphones blasting Led Zeppelin to distract himself. In the now, eleventh hour since finding out he and Cas have been whammied to not be able to touch each other, Dean has successfully kept his hands to himself zero times in Cas’ presence.

His body is sore, he’s hot, and he can still feel the lingering shocking pricks on his skin from where he’s touched Cas.

Every time he begins to question why he can’t seem to not touch Cas he decides immediately that it’s not a route he wants to go down. There are things— _ feelings _ —he’s not sure he’s ready to admit out loud.

Cas is now a human, for good this time.

When Cas was still an angel and still had that habit of coming and going as he pleased, never sticking around for too long, Dean could deny these feelings easier. But Cas being human now, and here all the time brings a whole new box of of shit Dean has to unpack.

Those feelings are stronger. He remembers what it felt like watching Cas die, seeing his wings burned into the ground of the sand outside of that godforsaken lakehouse. He remembers the void in his chest when he had to confront a reality without Cas. And he remembers the sudden burst of hope and life when he saw Cas standing next to that phone booth after he called Dean to tell him was alive.

The last thing Dean or Cas needs right now is Dean throwing his unprocessed feelings about Cas out into the world while they’re nearly dying by this damn curse.  

His computer screen taunts him though. The words ‘how to tell if you’re in love with your best friend’ are typed into the search bar of his internet browser, but he chickened out from hitting enter, instead letting Zeppelin pull him away from terrifying thoughts.

He feels his phone buzz against his thigh. When he picks it up, he sees a text from Sam.

**Sam: Meet in the war room. Now.**

**Sam: Scratch that. Wait 5 min.**

Dean scrunches his nose at Sam’s weirdness, but then he wonders if Cas is already there and it’s to keep them apart. He won’t complain, since he’s experienced enough labor pains to last him a lifetime and over.

**Dean: Whatever you say, Sammy**

He sees the little dots appear, letting him know Sam is typing, but nothing comes in the couple of minutes that he sits and waits. He about gives up and goes back to his laptop when his phone vibrates again. He huffs when he sees a message not from Sam, but Cas.

**Cas: Dean, please come to the war room. I would like to test something**

Now Dean’s really confused, but he shrugs as if Cas were standing in front of him now and types out a quick ‘OK’ before slumping his way out of his room. He’s almost there when ghost pains from before start to radiate on his skin where he touched Cas. It’s not enough that he feels like he needs to hunch over, but he can feel a cold sweat prepping to form on his brow and his stomach is already upset in anticipation.

He wants to stop and turn around, but then he hears whispering. Sam and Cas to be exact.

“Dean, you can come in,” Cas calls out.

“You sure about that? Cause I feel like I’m one step away from knockin’ our asses down to the ground again.”

“You’ll be fine, Dean.”

Cas voice is reassuring, and it’s the only reason Dean obliges and takes a few steps forward into the war room. Sam is standing by the table looking right at him with Jack right beside him, but it’s Cas who has his attention. He’s on the far end of the room next to the stairwell, blue eyes almost forlorn as he stares at Dean. Dean feels a chill crawl down his spine, but suddenly, he’s aware of the lack of pricking pain in his body.

“So, what’s the deal? You find a cure for this shit or we still stuck at square one?”

Sam exhales a deep breath, and there’s no sign of anything remotely happy in his expression. “We couldn’t find anything. It looks like whatever curse the witch put on you two was something of her own making.”

Dean looks between all three of them, and he can sense something even more sinister looming in their minds.

“Wanna tell me why I get the feeling that’s not the worst news?” All three of them look suspiciously at one another, and Dean clenches his fists tighter, that little internal meter of anger inside him rising higher and higher. “Anyone gonna say something?”

“Dean, it’s just—” Sam starts

“I’ll say it, Sam.” Sam pauses and all eyes shift to Cas who moves closer, stopping short of the table. Those ghost pains are back, but Dean is able to ignore them, finding his focus centered only on Cas. “Dean… I’m sure you’ve noticed, but the spell is getting stronger. The pain is getting worse and now just being in each other’s presence is causing discomfort now.”

Dean’s skin itches as he feels the unsettling prickle, but he doesn’t want to scratch it out of fear of confirming what Cas is saying.

“Yeah, I did. Which means we ain’t got a lot of time, so let’s get back to it.”

“That’s not what we’re saying, Dean,” Sam interjects.

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

Cas’ chest heaves in and out, a very human pain now floating around in his eyes and dampening the air in the room around him. “Dean, if this spell keeps growing at this rate, we will be in pain no matter where in the bunker we are. I can’t… I don’t want to put you through this pain.”

“No.” The word is out of his mouth almost immediately after Cas finishes.

Cas doesn’t need to say any more for Dean to know where this is heading. “No one is leaving. We’re gonna stay here and figure this shit out. You hear me?”

Everyone in the room looks around at one another with creased brows and sighs of resignation.

“Dean, we might not have a choice,” Sam interjects. “Look, if we can’t get this spell figured out, Cas volunteered to leave temporarily. We’ll get him a place nearby and I’ll check on him just until we figure out what to do. It’s all temporary.”

Dean turns his glare towards Sam, feeling like putting his fist through a wall.

“We’re not splitting up, Sam. We worked too damn hard to split up again! Especially over a damn witch spell!”

“And what happens if we don’t find a cure, Dean?” Sam interjects. Sam stares Dean dead in his eyes and Dean returns it with a glare of his own. “If this damn spell keeps getting stronger, than it won’t matter how far you and Cas are. We don’t know the limits of this spell.”

“Then we don’t let it happen! We find the damn spell to break the curse and we keep it moving.”

“Dean, what do you think we’ve been trying to do?” Sam barks back.

The tension in the room is so thick that Dean feels like he might choke on it. His reaction is irrational, at best, and he knows it. But somehow the idea of Cas leaving again creates this void inside him. They went to the other world and they only came back with Jack. Mary and the other world Bobby… they didn’t make it. Some of those people left in that ravaged world didn’t make it. Sure Michael’s dead, but anything less than a full victory means they lost. He’ll be damned if something separates the loved ones he’s got left.  

“Dean… please,” Cas starts. Dean settles the glare on his face before looking up at Cas who looks pained, but emotionally this time. There is resignation on his face, but it’s familiar. It’s that same look Cas gets when he decides to do something sacrificial for his and Sam’s sakes. “This is the only way to stop the pain. At least until we can find a way to dispel the curse.”

Sam and Cas are both looking at him expectantly, awaiting his next move, so, he does exactly the opposite of what they’re expecting.

“Fine. Do whatever the hell you want,” His jaw clenches tight and his hands ball into a fist, so tight that he swears blood will start welling up soon. Before anyone can respond he turns and storms out and back into his room, slamming the door shut. He throws his headphones on and ignores the knocks that come at his door only a few moments later.

When he turns to his laptop screen and sees that same question taunting him again.  _ ‘How to tell if you’re in love with your best friend’ _ . He clears the question out and turns his laptop away.

The truth is, he already has his answer, and that’s what makes this whole situation shittier than it already is.

**__________________________**

**Sam: You should come say bye to Cas or something. I don’t know.**

Dean ignores the first text message and the slew that come minutes after.

**Sam: Cas wants to see you. Just come outside.**

**Sam: Fine. I’m going to get food when I drop Cas off. Do you want something?**

**Sam: Dean you need to eat.**

**Sam: Fine. Be a jerk.**

Sam doesn’t text him back after that, and Dean stops checking his phone. He knows that Cas leaving is for the best. The spell is getting stronger to the point that he’s not even comfortable in his own room. It feels like needles are just barely breaking skin, almost like he’s signed up for a never-ending acupuncture session. It’s uncomfortable and unsettling and he knows he’s teetering on the edge of extreme pain. He knows that Cas is feeling it too, but it’s even worse because Cas is the one who is leaving.

When that pain that disappears, he knows Cas is gone with it, and replacing that pain is some type of emptiness. It shouldn’t matter though, because they’ve suffered worse. Hell, Cas died, almost for good. But Dean can’t seem to push away that sinking feeling that this could be the last time he sees Cas.

With Sam and Cas gone, he uses the opportunity to sneak out and snatch some books from the library. Nothing he’s read online has helped find a solution, so now is the best time to look for what he needs before Sam comes back and tries to talk to him about his… feelings.

What he’s not expecting is Jack to still be there, bags under his eyes as he looks up to Dean from the table where he’s reading.

Dean shrugs and walks over to a nearby bookshelf and starts examining it for.... something. Anything, really.

“You didn’t go with Sam and Cas?” he asks absently as he scans row after row.

“I offered to stay with Castiel in the motel, but he and Sam said it would be better if I stay here and keep reading.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, well, a lot of good that’s doing, right?”

“I believe it’s doing good. Sam thinks we’ll find the cure soon. He’s just not sure if it’ll be in any of these books. He said he has a couple of contacts he could use, though.”

“Why does that worry me more than the actual damn spell?” Dean goes back to looking for books, contemplating the various people that Sam could possibly be thinking of calling for help.

All the while, he can feel Jack’s attention on him. It’s too quiet, and there’s no sound of pages turning.

“Alright, what’s on your mind, kid?”

He turns around to see that Jack is staring at him curiously, in that strange, creepy child-like way that he’s never gotten accustomed to.

“You said that you don’t believe it will do a lot of good, but… you really want to believe it will do good,” Jack says. His words come slow and careful as if psychoanalyzing him, but Dean can hear the question in his tone almost like the voice in his head that asks him the same thing.

Dean huffs as he grabs a few books. “What? You digging around in my head now? Might wanna keep outta there, kid. There’s things in there your young mind may not wanna see.”

Jack shakes his head like an admonished child. “I’m… not in your head. I was repeating what Sam said. He said you’d act like you don’t care, but would do the opposite. He said that you care the most out of anyone.”

“Yeah, well, tell Sam to keep his psychology bullshit to himself.”

Jack tilts his head in that way that’s so reminiscent of Cas, and Dean looks away for a minute when he imagines Cas doing that very thing. Jack’s uncanny resemblance to Cas still bothers him.

“Sam also said that you would be very angry. He says when it comes to Castiel, you get very angry and emotional.”

“Alright,” Dean growls, rolling his eyes. “Look, we’re gonna figure out a way to kick this damn curse and get Cas back in here. End of story. And tell Sam he can needs to cut back on Dr. Phil.”

Dean doesn’t wait for Jack’s reply before he grabs the books he needs and escapes to his room, slamming the door shut. He can’t remember the last time he’s sat at his desk, but he flips on the lamp and throws open a book on witches, and starts digging into it.

The voice in his head that tells him that he cares so much about Cas sounds distinctly like Jack now. The voice taunts him, reminding him of the reason why it bothers him so much that Cas isn’t here anymore, and why he’s being so damn cagey about it. As he sits, he grabs two bottles of his emergency beer stash and drops them on the desk beside the books, opening up to the first page.

He skims every page, looks at every picture, book by book, finding that each lead is futile for him. Some way, somehow, whatever curse the witch put on them doesn’t exist in any shape or form.

He loses track of time, but stops for the first time in what feels like forever when Sam knocks on the door.

“Dean! You need to eat,” Sam grouches. Dean catches a faint whiff of burgers from their usual fast food joint. Dean stomach growls at the scent, and he knows he won’t be able to fight off his hunger for too much longer. He stands, letting his legs and joints pop as he shakes off the stiffness befor _ e openin _ g his bedroom door to see Sam holding the bag of food, looking highly unimpressed.

“Don’t gimme that look,” Dean grumbles as he takes the food from Sam.

“Is telling you to take a break too Dr. Phil for you?” Sam counters, his face settling into his usual unamused bitchface.

“Depends on what follows it.” Sam rolls his eyes, and Dean considers getting under his skin a small victory. “How’s Cas?”  

“He’s fine. I left him at the motel with a few books to look through and bought him something to eat. He’ll be fine until tomorrow.”

Dean hums, something irritating him even further about this whole thing when he thinks about Cas being alone until tomorrow. “Tomorrow. Yeah, great.”

“Wanna tell me why you’re getting so bent out of shape over this? It’s just a curse. We’ve dealt with worse before. I mean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re acting just like you did when Cas—”

“Don’t say it,” Dean growls, effectively cutting him off. He’s worked tirelessly to forget about those couple of weeks where Cas was dead. He’ll be damned if Sam reminds him of it again.

Sam shakes his head and huffs. “All I’m saying is that it’s not that big a deal, Dean. We’ll fix it, and Cas’ll be back before you know it.”

“Really? And how’s that? Every goddamn book I’ve skimmed through ain’t got shit on how to fix this curse.”

Sam doesn’t have a response to that, so he settles for a sympathetic look that somehow manages to piss Dean off worse. Sam takes the hint and steps out of the room, looking over his shoulder at Dean one last time. “We’ll find a way, Dean.” He walks away after that and Dean’s happy to shut the door again.

He takes the food and plops back down at the desk, staring at the burger. This damn curse has kept him from eating all day, and he doesn’t realize how hungry he is until his stomach threatens to eat itself from the inside as he stares at the food. He tries to resist, turning back to the books laid open in front of him, but he knows that nothing will come of it. Every book they’ve pulled from the archives has come up with nothing.

He flips the book shut and throws it on the floor before opening up the container and biting into his burger. Somehow, he feels like failure as he chews down each greasy bite. It  _shouldn’t be this hard to beat a w_ itch’s curse, or whatever the hell it is that’s afflicted them.

Eating in silence without the distraction of scanning book after book forces him to consider Sam’s question. Why  _ is _  he so worked up about this?

He’s used to Cas running off for days, weeks, at a time without so much as a phone call or text before he goes. Now that Cas is human and heaven and hell aren’t a problem anymore, Dean’s enjoyed having Cas so close. Cas can’t just disappear anymore, and that saves Dean a hell of a lot of worrying even if he tries to keep it all bottled up inside.

Still, that doesn’t seem to satisfy Sam’s question of why it’s affecting Dean so badly. He’s watched Cas suffer a lot worse: possession by Lucifer, nearly dying in some gooey explosion thanks to the leviathans, and real death by Lucifer himself. Dean’s gotten lucky, though, in that each time Cas has been brought back to him alive and well, and each of those threats are dead and gone.

And, Cas is safe in a motel. There’s a minuscule chance some rogue shifter or werewolf will try to kill him while he’s alone. But, even with a small chance, there’s a fear there that it could happen, and Dean won’t be there to help him. It’s a fear very much unlike what he feels when he and Sam are separated. With Sam, he trusts that he’ll be fine. A text or call every so often will suffice until they reunite.

With Cas, even that won’t do.

There’s a feeling, deep and dark, that sits in the pit of Dean’s heart. That feeling is the answer to Sam’s question, but Dean wouldn’t dare speak it.

He scarfs down his food, chasing it all with the last of his bedroom beer stash. He feels exhaustion fill every ounce of his being and pull at his eyelids. His eyes are sore from the strain of reading tiny text both in the books and on his laptop for hours on end, and his muscles still ache with the frustration of being forced into one place for so long.

His brain won’t shut off, though. There’s a buzz in his mind that won’t be silenced as he thinks about Cas. His mind starts to wander to places it shouldn’t. Suddenly, that empty feeling of not having Cas here is replaced with are almost like ghost touches of Cas’ body against his. Frustration at their current situation morphs into that familiar sexual frustration where he’s horny and wants, needs, someone to take that edge off. It’s aggravating that this imaginary person happens to looks so much like Cas.

Dean decides to give up research for the night and quickly shucks off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt as he crawls into bed. He’s hard underneath as he pulls the covers overhead, and for a moment he considers firing up a video, but reluctant thoughts of Cas alone seem to be doing the trick. He swallows, knowing full well he’s about to slink into a dark territory he rarely ventures into.

He’s gotten to this point before, where he touches himself thinking of Cas, but he always chickens out, or tries to anyways. He’ll distract himself with a video or something else, but no matter what he tries, it always ends being Cas. So, he doesn’t try to pretend anymore. As his hands slips beneath the elastic of his boxers he thinks of unruly dark hair and crystal blue eyes, and of strong, calloused hands on him. He grips his growing erection and gives it a couple of slow jerks, ignoring the slight burn without lube.

His breath catches in his throat when he hears Cas’ deep voice cry out his name.

Which is of course why his phone chooses that exact moment to ring and ruin the fantasy.

He fully expects it to be Sam, and he debates telling him just exactly what he’s interrupting if it  _ is _  him. Grumbling, Dean grabs his phone off the nightstand and sees that it’s Cas calling and all of a sudden, things change.

Dean presses answer faster than he realistically wants to, but that protective side of him comes out and he doesn’t hesitate.

“Cas… hey,” Dean greets immediately.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas answers, sounding like nothing is wrong even though  _ everything  _ seems wrong right now.

They don’t speak for a moment, and Dean racks his brain trying to figure out why Cas is calling him. He hopes maybe he’s found a lead in breaking this curse, but something in his brain tells him that’s not the case, especially at ten thirty at night.  

“So… is there a reason you called?” Dean asks.

“I… was simply checking on you to make sure you were doing well. You seemed angry and unwell before I left.”

“No, I feel just peachy,” Dean cracks. “Course I’m pissed, Cas. I’m pissed at this shitty curse. I'm pissed that you’re stuck in some motel. There’s a lot to be pissed about.”

“Understandable.” For some reason Cas’ curt reply irritates him. Maybe he wants Cas to be pissed about this as much as he is. Suddenly, there’s that bubbling in his gut again that threatens to make him word vomit some things that Dean feels are better left unsaid.

“Is that it? What, you’re just okay with this?” Dean growls.

“I am not ‘okay’ with this, Dean. I’m simply not stressing out about this problem because I know we will find a way to fix this.”

“Every book we’ve been through ain’t got jack on this curse, Cas. You and Sam seem to think we’ll fix this, but maybe you should both consider that things aren’t working out all that well.”

Cas goes silent, but Dean knows he’s there still. He can hear him breathing on the other end of the line. Something about it is comforting, maybe because it’s just another reminder that Cas is human now, and has to do these things.

“Dean, why are you so upset by this? We have survived much worse. You and I both have died before and have come back. This curse doesn’t seem as pertinent.”

There’s that callback again to Cas’ death. Dean still has nightmares about it sometimes, seeing Cas’ grace flashing out of his face and the imprint of his wings burned into the floor outside the lakehouse. His heart is beating faster now just thinking about it. The gurgle in his stomach gets worse as the words he’s kept bottled up for a long time threaten to eject out of his mouth.

“I don’t know, Cas. It’s just… I don’t know. We had the whole gang here for a minute and I’m just worried we’ll get split up again.” Dean pauses for a moment to stop himself from saying what’s really sitting heavy in his chest. “I mean, we ain’t exactly got the best track record.”

“But you’re not this worried about Sam,” Cas counters. Dean feels his body tense up. “When we hunted those vampires in Missouri, you were content with Sam sleeping in another motel away from us.” Now it’s Cas who pauses, and Dean dreads whatever it is he’s probably thinking in his head. “Is it because you don’t think I can handle myself… now that I’m human?”

Dean huffs, unsure if he’s more relieved that this is what Cas is thinking, or irritated that Cas thinks that Dean underestimates him that much.

“C’mon, Cas. You know I don’t think you’re weak just cause you’re human. I mean, you still beat the hell outta that werewolf a few weeks ago. That ain’t something your average hunter can do.”

Dean has vivid memories of that moment in fact, watching Cas go toe-to-toe with a werewolf almost double his size, but he took the thing effortlessly, his shirt only barely scratched and bloody. Cas had put it down with an angel blade to the chest, and Dean could hardly pay attention to his own werewolf, so wrapped up in watching Cas. Dean swallows as he remembers the jerk-off material he got from that hunt alone, and he feels himself getting hard again just thinking about it.

“Thank you, Dean. But that does not answer my question of what has you so upset by this.”

Dean’s erection reminds him of its presence, and he huffs again. “Look, Cas, can we just… finish this later or something? I’m—uh—in the middle of something here.”

“Oh. My apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt your research.”

“Not research,” Dean mumbles back as he lets his hand slip underneath his boxers, rubbing against his hard cock that lies flat against his stomach now. As his fingers wrap around it, he has to quickly bite his bottom lip to keep the moan stuffed inside.

“Dean… are you alright?”

Dean swallows. “Just peachy, Cas.”

“Are you sure? You sound exasperated. Is something wrong?” Cas asks.

There’s an ache of want that gets stronger by the moment and Dean feels his patience slipping, especially hearing Cas’ voice on the other end that makes his erection even harder.

“Jesus, Cas, m’fine.” It comes out harsher than Dean means, but then there’s a noise from Cas that’s almost like a chuckle. It’s low and husky and Dean feels a shock of pleasure course  _ through him as  _ blood rushes down to his unattended cock.

“Are you sure, Dean? It sounds like you could use assistance.”

Yep. Cas knows. There’s a cool arrogance to Cas’ tone that sends a shiver down Dean’s body. It’s a tone that Dean’s dreamed of, several times.

“I—uh—I’m good,” Dean stammers.

Cas hums, no… purrs, almost into the phone. Dean’s really going to have to take care of this erection soon.

“Dean, you don’t need to lie to me.”

There’s something commanding in Cas’ voice that sends a shiver down Dean’s body.

“Yeah? And how would you I’m lying?” Dean challenges.

“Because I know you, Dean. I know when you’re telling me the truth. I know all too well when you’re doing  _ other _  things.”

Dean gulps. He knows exactly what Cas is doing. He can hear the way Cas’ voice is softer, raspier now. It’s the fact that Cas is actually doing this that has him speechless in utter disbelief now.

“Cas… this is pretty dangerous territory you’re, uh, dipping into here,” Dean warns hesitantly as he wets his lips. His hand stays firmly on his cock, just waiting for Cas to keep going, fully ignoring the sirens screaming in his head.

“I am well aware of that. But I believe this is something humans do to relieve tension. I believe we both have tension that needs to be relieved.” For a newly minted human, Cas seems to be starting this phone sex off right. Dean pushes his boxers all the way down to his ankles now and lazily strokes himself a couple of times.

“That so? Alright, Cas. Tell me how you, uh, want your tension relieved?” Dean questions, throwing caution to the wind entirely. He hears Cas shuffle on the other end of the line, and Dean wonders—no—imagines Cas naked from the waist down now, maybe in one of Dean’s own old tees that Cas wears, his cock in one hand while he holds the latest iphone that Dean had given him in the other.

“Well… I believe that I would first want to see you naked. I still remember stitching your body back entirely as a raised you from hell. It is a perfect body from head to toe. I would love to worship it the way it deserves.”

Dean bites his lips as he gives another experimental tug on his cock. Leave it to Cas to weave his raising of Dean from hell into his dirty talk. Still, it gets Dean going probably more than it should.

“Fuck, Cas. Keep talkin’,” Dean begs.

“I would want to taste every inch of you, Dean. Things… they no longer taste like molecules to me now. I want to taste you. I want to memorize your taste, your scent. Everything.”

“Yeah, Cas. Keep it comin’, baby.” Dean’s fully aware of how desperate he sounds, but hearing Cas speak his dirtiest, darkest fantasies leaves him shameless.

“I want you to fuck my mouth, Dean. I want to taste your seed on my tongue. I would do my best to take you down all the way. I know how endowed you are.”

“Fuck, Cas. The hell did you learn to talk like this?” Dean growls. He squeezes at the base of his cock, and flicks the tip, feeling close to orgasm just from a few measly sentences.

“I’ve… listened to you before. Probably more than I should have… but I always was envious of the others. That they got to have you in ways that even I couldn’t. It’s embarrassing, but I wondered what it would feel like to be me.”

“Jesus-fuckin’- Christ,” Dean sighs. It makes him painfully harder knowing that Cas has eavesdropped on him having sex with other people, but then right now he’s discovering that he’s developing something of a voyeur kink now too. “Tell me what you liked, Cas. Did you wonder how it would feel if I ate you out like I did all those others? Wonder what it’d be like for my tongue and fingers to be in you?”

There’s a couple of hitches in Cas’ breath and Dean knows that Cas is jerking himself off just as hard if not faster than he is now.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas breathes. “I so badly wanted to be them. To feel your cock inside me. I imagined you taking me as hard as you’d like since I couldn’t feel pain.” Dean jerks himself off harder and faster. He’s hardly keeping his voice down enough that Sam can’t hear him if he were to pass by, but he doesn’t even care anymore. “I wanted so badly for it to be me you fucked so primarily. I wanted… no… want you to fuck me like you love me.” Dean barely manages to cup his hand over the tip of his cock and not make a mess all over his bed before he’s growling and coming into his hand.

“You hear that Cas?” Dean growls. “You hear me coming just from the thought of me fucking you?”

Cas growls into the phone and Dean knows Cas is coming too. He imagines the blissful look as Cas erupts all over himself. He so badly wishes he could be there to see it. But then reality sets back in and he realizes that he’s just had phone sex with his best friend. He’s just crossed a red line he can’t go back from.

“Dean,” Cas breathes on the other end.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean says with a nervous laugh.

“That was… most enjoyable. I would… like to do this again. Maybe when this curse is over maybe we can try the real thing?”

_ The real thing. _

Dispelling this curse is one thing, but finding a way to deal with the feelings this whole ordeal has just unearthed is a whole new battle in and of itself. Dean just swallows and closes his eyes before reaching down and feeling for the box of kleenex he keeps underneath his bed and takes a few sheets to wipe his hand clean.

“Yeah… uh… we got a lot to talk about before we get there, Cas. And we gotta deal with this damn curse too… but… yeah.”

Somehow that seems to satisfy Cas who yawns on the other end.

“We will find a cure, Dean. I promise you that.”

Cas yawns again and Dean feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips before exhaustion tugs at his own eyelids. “We’ll, uh, touch base tomorrow, Cas. Get some sleep.”

“Good night, Dean,” Cas rasps one last time.

“Night, Cas.”

Dean hangs up the phone and is ready to go to sleep, but no before his phone buzzes and he sees a text from Cas with a photo attached. When he opens it, he sees Cas—or his cock and thighs anyways, and sees the mess he’s made of himself. Cas cock and thighs are splattered with come.

Dean clearly owes whoever taught Cas to sext a bouquet of flowers because this is going to be spank bank material for a long time to come.

God, he hopes they can fix this curse thing soon.

**__________________________**

Years in the hunter life has given Dean almost a fully evolved sixth sense, especially when it comes to people sneaking up on him. It’s why he’s always kept his gun within arms reach every night. It’s why he immediately reaches for it when he senses someone standing over him.

It’s a trained reaction, the way that he quickly snatches his weapon from underneath the pillow beside him before snapping it in front of him, eyes snapping open as he trains his gun on whoever the offending person is. Who, of course, turns out to be one of the only few people a gun won’t actually harm.

“Morning, sunshine,” Gabriel greets, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.

“Sonuvabitch!” Dean gripes as he sits up his bed and scoots away from the archangel.

“Looks like Sammy weren’t kidding when they said you’re a real grouch in the morning,” Gabriel mocks, completely unbothered that he’s staring down the barrel of Dean’s pistol.

Dean rubs the sleep out of his eyes, just to make sure he’s hallucinating that the last angel on Earth, much less archangel, is really standing in his bedroom right now. When his vision is less sleep-blurry, Gabriel is still standing there, hands dug into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Goddamnit. The hell are you doing here?” Dean grumbles as he lowers the gun.

“Well, chucklehead, apparently helping you get your angel back.” As if solely to make matters worse, Gabriel waggles his eyebrow while Dean just sits and stares, unsure if his face is frozen in utter disbelief or irritation that Gabriel is standing in his bedroom.

“Sam!” Dean shouts as he scrambles out of bed and storms past Gabriel.He runs out of his room and into the kitchen, where his tunnel vision has him only focusing on Sam’s tall body standing by the coffee pot. “Wanna explain why an archangel is standing in my ro—?” Dean stops dead in the middle of his sentence when his tunnel vision recedes and he sees a familiar river of red hair sitting at the table in the kitchen.

The chair swivels and Dean comes face to face with Rowena, sipping from a tea cup.

“I was wondering when you were going to notice me, Dean,” she greets with a sly smile.

“Sonunvabitch!”

“This archangel has a name too, you know,” Gabriel taunts as he strolls in behind Dean. “Still don’t understand what my bro sees in you, Dean-O. At least Sam here has manners.”

Dean wonders if this is some serious fever dream. Maybe the curse causes hallucinations or fever dreams too, because he’s not sure why else he would be seeing Rowena and Gabriel in his kitchen, especially after they all went their separate ways after stopping the invasion of Michael from the alternate universe.

“Tell me I’m dreaming. Rowena and Gabriel aren’t really here in our kitchen, right?”

Sam sighs and barely hides his exaggerated eye roll. “We needed some extra help, so I called anyone who might know a thing or two about these curses. I just didn’t expect… both of them.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me?” Dean growls.

“I tried! But you were being an asshole last night, so I didn’t even get a chance to say anything to you.”

“Oh, because this is so much better.”

“Oh relax. We’re all here to help you fix this curse so you can have your cute, little angel back,” Rowena interjects. “Besides, I suppose I do owe you for trying to kill your brother to bring Fergus back.”

Dean scans the room, feeling outnumbered without Cas here to back him up. Then he remembers the amount of pain he would be in if Cas were here and suddenly he feels empty. Still, he keeps up the facade and just rolls his eyes.

“Alright, fine. Rowena being here makes sense. Why’s he here?” Dean demands, pointing to Gabriel.

“Sammy here seemed pretty desperate to reunite you and Cassie, so I figured I might as well pop in and help out. Doesn’t hurt that I get front row seats to see the show too.”

Rowena finishes off her tea before setting her cup back down on the counter. “Now, let’s go see what this little ole spell is all about. Shall we?”

“Problem. We kinda need Cas for this whole—curse thing, and I ain’t exactly looking forward to the crippling pain that comes with him.”

Rowena turns to Gabriel. “What do you people say? No pain, no gain, is it?” Dean takes a step back apprehensively, fearing what’s about to come. Rowena rolls her eyes and huffs. “You leave this wee curse to me. He will go and retrieve your precious angel from his dingy motel room,” she adds pointing to Gabriel.   

Gabriel grins and nods. “One lovesick angel, coming right up.” He snaps his fingers, and he’s gone just like that, the sound of flapping wings filling the kitchen.

“God, I don’t miss that,” Dean mutters, remembering all the times Cas would leave mid-conversation without so much as a goodbye or warning.

“Now, while he’s gone, why don’t you explain how wound up with this little curse,” Rowena comments as she crosses her legs and pins Dean with one of those amused smirks.

“Look, I don’t know what happened. We were hunting a witch up in Iowa, Sam and Garth were inside the house dealing with the witch, and me and Cas went outside to burn her supply of hex bags. We set the hex bags on fire, they start smoking real weird, job’s done, and then we end up here. Next thing you know, we can’t even touch each other, and now we can’t even be in the same room.”

Rowena smirks and Dean pauses. “Sounds like you had a wee bit of bad luck with the hex bags. Seems like the witch’s final hex was activated by burning them. Quite a brilliant move even for a low-rent witch.”

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the information, Captain Obvious. But I need to know how to fix it.”

“Dean,” Sam huffs.

“Oh don’t worry your darling little head about it, Samuel. Dean here is just grouchy without his angel around.”

Dean doesn’t have any snappy comebacks to Rowena’s jab , so he just turns away from her knowing smile and stares indignantly elsewhere in the kitchen. He’s had zero time to process what he and Cas did last night, and he’s terrified of being in this uncharted territory now when it comes to his and Cas’ relationship. Rowena teasing him with it isn’t helping either.

The sound of flapping wings fills the kitchen again, and as if on cue, a crippling pain fills Dean’s body, dropping him to the floor. The pain is ten times worse now, like someone’s lit a fire inside his body and it’s charring all of his insides. Dean clutches at his abdomen and doesn’t even have a minute to appreciate that Cas is back in the bunker with them, even though he’s howling in pain too.

“Make… it… stop,” Dean begs through clenched teeth.

The pain is so strong that he feels his vision blur like he’s about to pass out.

“Dean… Dean!” Dean hears Sam shout in the background. His ears are ringing so much that Dean’s not sure he’s even hearing that right. Dean feels Sam dragging him away, but no distance seems to reduce the pain Dean feels. Nothing. He sees Rowena and Gabriel look between them both curiously, and Dean mentally swears if he gets through this, he’ll rip their ass a new one for putting him through this pain.

But the last thing Dean sees before the pain becomes too much that he blacks out are Cas’ blue eyes trained on him, looking so bright as though it was the first time he’s ever laid eyes on Dean.

**__________________________**

When Dean opens his eyes again, he’s somewhere… maybe in the bunker. It’s dark, wherever it is. He registers that he’s on his back on the cold basement floor, and he notices the pain in his back caused by it as he regains consciousness and feeling in his bones.

He scans the room looking for any sign of Cas, since he was the last thing he remembered before apparently blacking out.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he hears Rowena call out. Dean sits up and he looks around, realizing that he’s in the bunker basement. Rowena’s overcoat is off and she’s standing by a table, reading from a spell book. Several lit candles surround a bowl beside her, with various vials and plants beside it. “Quite the spell you’ve found yourself under, Mr. Winchester. Takes some pretty strong magic to create a curse like this.”

“The hell am I doing down here? And how long was I out?” Dean mumbles.

Rowena hums a song that he’s pretty sure he’s only heard from the screeching of bagpipes, flitting back and forth and adding things to the bowl while reading over the book on the table.

“A couple of hours. You and Castiel nearly succumbed to the effects of the curse. You’d be dead with liquefied internal organs right now if Gabriel and the Nephilim hadn’t whisked your bonnie wee angel off to the other end of this bunker. I, on the other hand, had Sam drag you down here so I could ward this room against magic to keep the curse from affecting you. It’s only temporary, though.”

Dean shudders at the mere thought of death by liquefied organs. Despite all the many different ways he’s seen people die and figured he, himself, might go,  _ that  _ is definitely not one of the ways he’d choose.

“Gee, sounds like a party.”

“Yes, well, like I said, tis quite the lovely curse.” Rowena sighs, closing her eyes as if lost in thought. “I can remember many a man who I let die by this curse. All deserved it, of course. Baldwin decided to cheat on me with that harlot, Fenella. And then there was Douglas, who—”

“Can we skip to the point? Cause right now, I feel like I just went three rounds with Manny Pacquiao and got my ass kicked— _ badly _ ,” Dean grumbles.

He sits up even further, groaning as every muscle in his body aches and throbs. Weirdly, even his brain feels sore.

“Impatient, are we?” Rowena opens a vial before dumping the clear, liquid contents into the bowl. “Well, if you must know right this minute, the curse that had afflicted you and your little angel is a very powerful spell. These days, the  _ lesser  _ witches have taken to calling it the reverse curse. Personally, I find the name lacking, seeing as how powerful it is, but I suppose I don’t make the names.”

Dean clears his throat. “The point?”  

“Anywho, the curse makes your body reject the thing you want the most. Whatever your heart craves the most becomes painful to even be around. The more you desire something, the stronger the curse gets, and the less you can stand to be around it. Soon the deprivation becomes so strong that it literally kills your body from the inside out.” Rowena drops another few ingredients into the bowl while grinning, evidently amused by this whole thing. “That witch you boys killed must have put this curse on the hex bags you burned as a fail-safe.”

Dean swallows thinking about what that means for him.

“So, you mean that this curse, or whatever the hell it is, just instinctively knows the thing I want the most and makes my body hate it?”

“The curse, like all magic, digs deep into the soul of the afflicted. It reacts to what your own desires deep down inside, and it turns you away from it. Most people affected by this curse usually crave things like money, cars, women, or other sundry things. You’re not so different, Dean Winchester. Your craving is something a little more— _ hmm _ —manly and angelic, I should say.” Dean doesn’t miss the clever smirk on her face, practically taunting him as she explains everything.

Still, there’s something paralyzing about the fact that this curse has basically outed his feelings about Cas. While his feelings for Cas are something he’s confident he would have eventually addressed on his own time, he doesn’t have a game plan now that the moment’s here.

“Sounds like a load of bullshit to me.”

Rowena hums and shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. Seems like the curse got it right to me.”

“Yeah, well, your opinion aside, how the hell do we fix this damn thing?”

“Well, Sam was very generous to lend me the Black Grimoire.” Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Rowena puts a hand up stopping him. “Before you say anything, you should know that I found the cure for your little curse in here.” Rowena turns her attention back to the book, dropping a small plant from her collection into the bowl. “Seems you and Sam need to brush up on your Gaelic.”

“Well don’t get comfortable with it. The second Cas and I kick this goddamn curse, the book is going back into lock-up.”  

Rowena huffs, rolling her eyes before turning her attention back to the book. “I swear, this book is wasted in your hands. If only you’d release it to me so I could unlock its true potential.”

“Fat chance,” Dean counters as he walks up behind Rowena. He’s not sure when he got so comfortable being around Rowena, especially given the fact that she’s anything but a good guy and could easily snap and fry his brain at any given moment. Still, even with that possibility looming it doesn’t stop him from peeking behind her. “So, how does this bad boy work?”

“Well, I mix a few ingredients, recite this Gaelic spell while you and your lover boy angel are standing right next to each other, and then… poof. The curse is gone and we can all be on our merry way, and you two are free to continue your torrid love affair.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, feeling naked under Rowena’s amused glance.

“You poor, poor boy. You still haven’t made it to fifth base with the handsome angel yet, have you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean bites back.

Rowena’s smirk doesn’t let up and Dean has an inkling she’s enjoying this way more than she’s letting on, which is a hell of a lot.

“I can cast a spell for that too. Make it easier for you and lover boy to open up to each other.”

“Since your magic has a habit of melting people’s brains or, better, making their heads explode, I think I’ll pass,” Dean says with a simper.

Rowena shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She pours several more vials into the bowl, and Dean watches the blue-white smoke that rises into the air. “There we are. Now, all I need is you and Castiel standing here and touching each other while I cast the spell and you should both be free as a bird.”  

“Pardon? Did you just say touching each other?” Dean questions, squinting.

“If you want to break the curse, you have to be touching the thing you’ve been cursed against. So, hold hands, kiss each other, do the bloody tango. I don’t care how, you just need to do it.”

Memories of the indescribable pain he felt before he’d blacked out return, and his skin crawls with the thought of revisiting it.

“And what about the whole liquefied insides thing if we’re are standing next to each other, much less touching each other? If this doesn’t work, we’re both screwed.”

Rowena shrugs. “It’s either that or you two never see each other again, and the best you can do is hope that your desires don’t feed this curse so much that it grows even stronger. If that’s the case, before long, neither of you will be able to find a single place on this earth where you won’t be affected by it.”

There’s a choice Dean hadn’t considered before. There’s fear now in place of anger. He’s got two choices: he and Cas liquify their insides and hope Rowena’s spell works, or he runs the risk of never seeing Cas again.

It’s selfish the choice that first pops into his head. He’s not sure he could handle never seeing Cas again. He’s kicked Cas out before, he’s watch Cas die  _ several times.  _ Each time, he’s felt an inescapable loneliness there.

He doesn’t know what Cas’ vote will be, but he knows what his own answer is.

“I vote we do it.”

“Good. While you were unconscious, Castiel agreed to do the same as well. So, if you’re ready, we can get this started.”

Dean swallows and nods, preparing himself as much as he possibly can for the hellish pain that awaits him the moment those doors open. He straightens up and takes a few deep breaths.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

Rowena smiles and inspects the table one more time before turning back to Dean. “Once those doors open, my ward will be broken and you will feel excruciating pain. You need to reach out for Castiel as quickly as you can if the spell is to work. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. Now let’s get on with it.”

“Good luck, Dean.  _ Oh, boys _ !” Rowena calls out.

It’s instantaneous. The minute that door opens, Dean feels like someone’s jabbed every organ inside his body with a million needles. The inferno raging inside him brings him to his knees. Dean pants hard and heavy, but he struggles to catch a breath.

Then there’s Cas.

Sam, Gabriel, and Jack are all there too, but Dean’s eyes are glued to Cas.

Cas is on the floor behind Dean, growling and clutching at his stomach, looking worse than death now. Dean’s in so much pain he can barely fathom trying to move, but he heeds Rowena’s words and use what miniscule willpower he has left, forcing his body to slink towards Cas.

It’s slow, but when he’s in front of Cas, Cas manages to look up at him, his blue eyes meeting Dean’s. It’s gazing into Cas’ eyes that makes him feel whole for the first time in days. He realizes that if he’s going to die by some stupid witch curse, at least he can do it here with Cas.

“C—Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas gurgles.

They don’t need to say any more than that. Dean feels like his insides are slowly melting just like Rowena said they would, but he reaches his hand out for Cas anyways, and he’s surprised when Cas accepts Dean’s hand into his own. Cas laces their fingers together and Dean closes his eyes. Somewhere in the background he can hear Rowena screaming something. It’s unintelligible to his ears, but he’s got enough brain-power left to assume she’s reciting the spell.

Dean doesn’t focus on that though. Instead, he focuses on Cas staring back at him, and Cas’ hand laced together with his own. Dean thinks he sees a little smile touch at the corner of Cas’ mouth, but between the groans and the agony of literally dying, he’s not sure if he’s just imagining it.

Darkness tinges the edge of his vision and Dean knows before long he’ll be unconscious again or dead. His head feels heavy, but he looks up at Cas one last time, hoping that the look he gives Cas communicates what he can’t physically say right now.

_ I love you, Cas _ .

**__________________________**

Dean opens his eyes again, this time fully aware of what had just happened. He doesn’t expect to be alive. His entire body felt like it had been stuck in a microwave, and that’s not something you just survive.

But, some way, somehow, he did. The only reason he knows is because his hand is still laced together with Cas’, who is lying at his side, eyes closed and body still.

“Dean?” he hears Sam’s familiar voice call out.

He looks up to see Sam and Jack both rushing over to him, getting closer—too close. He waves them off and they both back up to give him his space.

“The hell happened?”

“You and Cas passed out again after Rowena finished lifting the spell,” Sam explains.

When Dean looks around he sees no sign of Rowena or Gabriel, but much to his relief, the Black Grimoire still sits open on the table. Then again, Dean remembers just how powerful Rowena is even without it.

“Where’s Rowena and Gabriel?”

“Rowena left. She mentioned something about men in Hawaii or something like that. She—uh—also mentioned something about you and fifth base with Cas. I… tried not to inquire any further than that.”

Dean snorts, amused that Rowena would leave them with that little tidbit of information.

“And Gabriel?”

“He’s—upstairs. Turns out he was bored, so I think he may be sticking around for a while.”

“Fan-freaking-tastic.”

Cas stirs beside him, and Dean only now realizes that even awake, he hasn’t let go of Cas’ hand. When Cas sits up, the first thing he looks at is Dean. Their eyes connect again, but there’s no longer then pain that comes with it now. In this moment, it’s just him and Cas, face to face, with a long overdue conversation just waiting to start-up between them.

“Was the spell successful?” Cas inquires, deep voice a welcomed presence that Dean missed more than he realized.

“It—uh—looks like it,” Dean answers, sounding more bashful than he should.

Dean and Cas both look down at the same time and Cas sees that their fingers are still laced together as well and he looks up at Dean with a shocked expression. If Cas is at a loss of what to say too, then Dean will be glad to be in good company at least.

Dean doesn’t turn away from Cas until Sam clears his throat reminding him that he and Jack are still there. When he turns to Sam, he sees a familiar look of discomfort in his eyes, the same look Sam gets when he tries to give Dean space when he’s with a girl. Except this time, it’s with Cas.

“Since you two are fine, I—should—uh—check on Gabriel,” Sam stutters as and Jack scramble to their feet.

Neither Dean nor Cas protest as Sam and Jack both exit the dungeon fast leaving Dean and Cas alone. Dean’s body is still sore as he tries to move, and, much to his chagrin, he removes his hands from Cas’ as he stands up. Cas follows suit, and Dean, for the first time in days, gets a good look at Cas since he left.

Cas looks exhausted, even more so than almost having your insides liquefied would make you. Dean notices that Cas is wearing one of his old flannel shirts, and that doesn’t help that blossoming feeling that’s growing deep inside his chest.

“I was wondering where that shirt went,” Dean jokes as he fixes the shirt’s collar on Cas, relishing that he can finally touch Cas without any adverse repercussions.

Cas looks down at his shirt before turning up to Dean, almost looking embarrassed if the dash of red that fill his cheeks is any indication. Cas blushing is just another one of those small human quirks that Dean never knew he’d want or like in Cas.

“I… must have grabbed it by accident out of the dryer. I didn’t have much time to pack before I left. I can return it to you if you’d like,” Cas says.

Dean smiles and shrugs. “Nah. Kinda think it looks better on you anyways.” Seeing Cas’ smile is almost too much for Dean, but he knows it’s only going to get worse from here on out, so he scratches the back on his neck and tries to think of what to say next. “So, how ya been?” Dean asks with a smirk.

“I’ve been better. Having my body nearly microwaved by a spell is not an experience I’ll want to repeat anytime soon,” Cas answers with a grin of his own. “How are you, Dean?”

“I… uh… am probably the same. Also, kinda dreading this whole ‘feelings talk’ thing too.”

Cas pins him with that intense stare again, and it makes Dean shiver, feeling like he’s been put on the spot in front of an entire audience.

“Is this about the phone sex?”

Dean sighs. Somehow Cas saying it out loud makes this whole situation even more real for them. With the whole curse situation, he still had one last barrier to separate him from having to discuss it, but now it’s gone and the moment is here.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is.” Dean swallows around the large lump that sits right in the middle of his throat, his brain racing to think of the words to say. But then, he realizes that he doesn’t need to think this through. Instinct is what’s kept him alive all these years, and it’ll be what gets him through this too. “Look, Cas. About the whole phone sex thing. I—I don’t know what to say. It’s just… you and I… we’ve been through so much together. And well.” Dean stops himself as he stammers. He realizes that he doesn’t need words. He needs action. “Sonuvabitch,” he curses before he lets his body move automatically, wrapping his hand around the back of Cas’ head and pulling him into a kiss.

He’s scared. There’s adrenaline rushing through him, his blood is pumping, but his brain has shut off entirely. Cas goes slack in his embrace, Dean doing all the work until suddenly Cas is kissing him back,  _ fervently _ .

Cas hands are on him now, balling Dean’s shirt into his fist. Cas devours Dean, tongue darting into Dean’s mouth, and teeth biting Dean’s lips in that way that borders on pain and pleasure, just the way Dean likes it.

Dean always imagined what his first kiss with Cas would be like. This is even better than every vivid imagination of the scenario that he’d dreamed up.

Dean’s disappointed when Cas pulls away first, lips bright red and Dean feels the ache in his own lips. But stronger than the sting of their kiss and Cas’ teeth biting as his lips is the craving for even more.

But, suddenly, that confidence that surrounds Castiel is gone, and in its place is a shyness again as Cas takes a step back. Cas doesn’t let go of Dean’s shirt and Dean doesn’t want him to. He wants Cas to hold onto him forever.  

“Damn… that was something,” Dean laughs.

“I hope that was good for you. I… am still not well-versed in this,” Cas apologizes.

Dean wraps his hands over Cas’ and feels himself grinning from ear to ear.

“You kiddin’? I haven’t gotten that jittery from a kiss in a long time. Been missin’ out on this for a damn long time. Got me wanting more of it.”

Dean’s unbothered by the fact that he’s probably grinning like a loon now, but he never realized how badly he wanted this - to have Cas here and touching him like this. Now that he’s got it, he doesn’t want to let it go.

“Dean, are we…” Cas trails off, and Dean can now see that even Cas, the ex-angel with no filter, doesn’t know what to say to this.

“Look, Cas. This whole stupid curse thing made me realize that I don’t like not having you here with me. I… need you here with me. I finally get that now.”

Cas leans in and kisses Dean again without warning but Dean simply eases into it relishing the taste of Cas on his lips. This has been a long time coming and Dean’s ready to dive all the way into it.

“Are we going to tell Sam about this?” Cas questions as he pulls back from Dean again.

Dean shrugs, completely unconcerned about how this could change everything with Sam.

“Eventually.” He presses his forehead against Cas’ and just rests it there, soaking in the feel of Cas being right here next to him. “I think right now, all I wanna do is take advantage of not having this damn curse and put my hands all over you.”

Cas presses another chaste kiss to Dean’s lips, and they both stand alone and content in the bunker cellar, body pressed against body, and Dean feels the most content he has in a long time.

“I think I’d like that, Dean.”

 


End file.
